“How?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you calling the issuing bank? Contacting Premier Logistics? Referring the deposit to your compliance department? I'm happy to cooperate with a standard verification process.”
A silence developed between them.
Then Sarah said, “Do you have a business address?”
Brandon gave it.
“Employee count?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Annual revenue?”
He provided the previous year's figure.
“Number of years in operation?”
“Five.”
“Personal residence?”
“West Philadelphia.”
Sarah paused while typing.
West Philadelphia.
Something changed in her expression.
Brandon noticed it.
He also noticed the elderly woman behind him.
She had been watching the interaction quietly.
Her gray hair was styled neatly, and she carried a small handbag beneath one arm.
Sarah looked up.
“Would you mind stepping aside while we review this?”
“Certainly, if somebody is actively reviewing it.”
“We need time.”
“How much?”
“I can't say.”
“Can I speak with someone from business banking?”
“I'm the branch manager.”
“Then I'd like to speak with whoever handles large commercial deposits.”
Sarah's mouth tightened.
“Sir, you're being difficult.”
Brandon felt a familiar wave of exhaustion.
He had entered the bank determined not to let an ordinary financial transaction turn into something personal.
But the questions had become increasingly disconnected from any specific verification requirement.
Sarah had not explained what documentation was missing.
She had not identified a discrepancy.
She had not contacted the named payer.
And she continued speaking to him as though cooperation itself were suspicious.
He checked the time.
12:21 p.m.
Eight minutes.
He had already spent eight minutes answering questions that seemed to multiply every time he provided an answer.
“Miss Winters,” he said, “I'm happy to wait for a legitimate verification. I'm not comfortable being repeatedly questioned without any explanation of what is actually missing.”
She folded her arms.
“And I'm not comfortable processing a ten-million-dollar check without knowing where it came from.”
“You do know where it came from.”
“I have your explanation.”
“You have the acquisition documents.”
“Documents can be fabricated.”
“You have my identification.”
“Identification can be stolen.”
“You have the issuing company's information.”
“Checks can be forged.”
Brandon nodded slowly.
“So every piece of evidence I provide is automatically considered potentially fraudulent?”
“That's not what I said.”
“Then tell me what would satisfy you.”
Sarah did not answer.
Instead, she reached for the telephone.
“Security, please come to Counter Three.”
Brandon stared at her.
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“For what reason?”
“To ensure that this interaction remains orderly.”
“It is orderly.”
Her eyes hardened.
“That's a matter of opinion.”
Behind him, the elderly woman looked down at her handbag.
A young customer near the door turned toward the security desk.
The atmosphere changed.
Until that moment, Brandon had been a customer with an unusual transaction.
Now the branch manager had introduced the possibility that he was dangerous.
Nothing about his behavior had justified it.
He had not threatened her.
Had not raised his voice.
Had not touched anything that did not belong to him.
Yet a uniformed officer was walking toward him.
And everyone in the lobby knew why.
Or thought they did.
Thomas Mitchell had worked in private security for more than twenty years.
He was fifty-three, with closely cropped gray hair, broad shoulders, and a face that rarely revealed what he was thinking.
Before working at the bank, he had spent several years supervising security at hospitals and corporate offices.
He had dealt with people who were angry.
People who were frightened.
People who were confused.
People who genuinely presented threats.
Brandon Coleman did not resemble any of those situations.
When Thomas approached Counter Three, he saw a man standing quietly with identification and paperwork spread in front of him.
Sarah, on the other hand, looked visibly agitated.
“Everything okay, Miss Winters?”
“I need you to remain here while I verify this gentleman's transaction.”
Thomas glanced at Brandon.
“Sir?”
Brandon looked back.
“I'm trying to deposit a check.”
Thomas nodded.